Stick it, p.26
Stick It, page 26
part #1 of Northern Legacy Series
I scoff. “You’ve got it all wrong. He’s the captain. It’s his job to make sure I’m okay. He was basically ordered to by Coach. That’s it. Nothing more.”
Wren scans my face before she smirks wickedly. “But you want there to be something more.”
“What— I— No,” I splutter, before sighing. “I’m not supposed to want anything with any of them. They’re my teammates. My roommates,” I spell out—for her benefit as well as my own. And yet, you keep kissing one, you let the other feel you up at every opportunity, and the third is getting you off in the gym. Jesus, when did my life become such a mess?
“So, who was the best kisser?” Wren wags her eyebrows suggestively.
I snort, shaking my head and refusing to answer. I’m thankful when we reach the cafeteria, although I admit I feel lighter for sharing that with her. Even if it hasn’t done much to unjumble my chaotic thoughts when it comes to the guys.
Wren pulls open the cafeteria door, stepping inside. I move to follow, but Ethan’s hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back.
I turn, glancing down at where his fingers have a firm yet gentle grip on me, noting the buzzing beneath my skin. Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet his. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock on mine as he steps closer. Too close, until the warmth of his body is pressing into mine.
Lowering his head, his breath brushes my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Careful, Dylan. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
His words are a caress across my skin. A taunt. A warning, but for me or for himself, I’m not sure. Does this mean he heard my conversation with Wren? Does he know I’ve kissed three of his friends—his teammates? Do I want him to?
He lingers a moment longer, his lips ghosting over my jaw, just barely, before he releases me and steps back. His eyes continue to hold mine captive as he reaches above my head to grab ahold of the door to the cafeteria and keep it open, and his voice is an octave deeper than normal as he gestures inside. “After you.”
Stepping into the room, he follows behind, the heat of his body warm at my back and his palm pressing possessively against the base of my spine as he directs me toward the table of loud, raucous hockey players in the middle of the room.
Conversation dulls as we approach, nerves fluttering in my belly. Some of the guys shoot me glances, a few offering quick nods or murmured greetings, but the atmosphere feels different. Heavier.
Ethan directs me to a free seat beside Jax, before sitting beside me and leaving Wren to sit opposite.
“Hey,” Noah greets as I lower myself into the seat, careful not to jostle my sore ribs. “It sucked not having you on the ice this morning.”
“Yeah, we were worried when we heard what happened to you,” Tyler, the second-line center, adds with a friendly smile.
“Seriously,” Marcus, a first-line defenseman alongside Jax, nods. “Shit’s fucked. It’s good to see you didn’t let it get you down.”
Others echo the sentiment, and I give the table my best attempt at a smile. “Thanks.”
“Did you see who it was?” Ben, our third-line goalie, asks me.
I hesitate, fingers curling into a fist in my lap. Kyle’s gaze burns into me, like a brand being seared into the side of my head. I swallow, keeping my expression neutral. “Not really. It was dark, and they wore hoods.”
“Cowards,” one of the other guys spits, shaking his head. “Ganging up on someone—a girl, no less—alone and in the dark. That’s weak as shit.”
Several others murmur their agreement, and my gaze inadvertently flicks to Kyle in time to catch the thinning of his lips, how his eyebrows draw low over his eyes. He’s pissed. Because his teammates essentially called him a coward, or because they are actually bothered that I was attacked?
“I hope campus security is stepping up after this,” Marcus states, lips pressed into a firm line. “My sister is a freshman here. I’d hate to think something like this could happen to her.”
“It was hopefully just a one-time thing.” I don’t want him to worry about his sister, especially since, unless she plans on joining the men’s hockey team, she won’t be a target.
“What if they try it again?” someone farther down the table asks.
A shiver goes through me at the notion of being in that situation again. Scared, helpless, trapped.
A growl rumbles through Jax’s chest, his hands forming fists on the table beside me.
“They won’t get the chance.” Ethan’s voice is cold, edged with a warning as he surveys the rest of the team. “We look after our own.”
“For real.” Noah nods, face lined with determination, like Ethan is imparting once-in-a-lifetime wisdom. “You let us know if you need anything.” His gaze is set on Ethan, but then it slides to mine, and he flashes me a warm smile while other players vocalize their agreement. Their ease to help chokes me up. A few weeks ago, most of these guys would probably have rejoiced at me being unable to play, and now they’re offering to help however they can. I don’t have words.
Thankfully, Ethan jumps in to save me. “Thanks, guys. We’re working on a schedule so Dylan isn’t alone on campus or at the arena. I think we have it covered, but if we run into any issues, we’ll let you know.”
The guys all respond to their captain with eager nods and words of affirmation.
Kyle pipes up for the first time since I sat down. “Come on,” he scoffs. “It was a random attack. Everyone’s acting like she was personally victimized.”
The air shifts. Finn stares at Kyle, like he can’t believe what just came out of his mouth. “Dude, that’s cold. Regardless of whether it was a one-off or not, she was attacked.”
Kyle shrugs, tearing a bite off his sandwich. “I just think it sounds like a bigger deal is being made of it than necessary.”
Griffin, who has strategically placed himself where he has an unobstructed view of where I’m sitting and also a clear line of sight to Kyle, Fletcher, and Monroe, leans forward. His stare sharpens, eyes locked on to Kyle like he’s peeling back layers, looking for what’s underneath. “Who’s to say she isn’t being targeted?”
Tension thrums through the table like a live wire, some of the guys exchanging confused and wary glances.
“How the hell would I know?” is Kyle’s blasé response before he goes back to his food.
“Shit, you think one of our fans could have targeted her for being on the team?” another player directs to Griffin.
His response is to shrug. “Anything is possible.”
Conversation shifts after that ominous response, but I’m not really listening.
“Here.” I glance up as a tray of food is placed in front of me, but it’s not the delightful smell that has my mouth dropping open. It’s the person handing it to me. Finn. Finn got me food. “You need to keep your energy up.”
“T-thanks.”
He nods before sauntering back to where he was sitting. There’s a severe look of consternation on his face as he picks at his plate, his gaze occasionally flicking up to Kyle. He doesn’t engage in conversation with him the way he typically does at lunch, and I notice there is no puck bunny trying to climb into his lap today. While it’s strange and a little sad not to see him being his typical charismatic, happy-go-lucky self, a tiny, minuscule part of me is glad he’s starting to question things.
And the jealous witch inside of me preens at the lack of a puck bunny at his side. Although I shut her up real quick. I may be starting to see that I can trust these guys, that I’m not hated here the way I was at NSU, but that doesn’t mean I can allow myself to fall for any of them. They are still my teammates, maybe even my friends, and we have a long way to go to the championships. The last thing I want to do is fuck everything up by letting feelings or sex get in the way.
As I return my attention to my tray in front of me, I catch Wren’s gaze from across the table. She arches a brow, her lips quirking in a smirk. Plot thickens, she mouths. I shake my head, ignoring her as I dive into my food.
28
DYLAN
Tonight’s the first time in forever that I haven’t had a practice or gotten on the ice. The amount of extra time I have is insane. I’m all caught up on my assignments, I’ve read ahead in most of my classes, and there’s literally nothing left for me to do except stare at my ceiling in utter boredom. It’s stupid, but I’m reluctant to leave my room. I should’ve asked Wren about doing something tonight or hanging out at her place, but I’m exhausted after my first full day back on campus.
A knock on my door makes me jolt.
“Dylan?” Jax’s voice filters through the wood. “Ethan and I made dinner.”
I hesitate, staring at the door like it might suddenly dissolve. I don’t have anything else to do, and I do need to eat. Better to go downstairs when I know there’s no risk of getting caught alone with Kyle. Besides, the thought of sitting in my room alone all night feels suffocating.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, pulling open the door.
Jax smiles, a small quirk of his lips, and steps aside to let me through. I feel his presence at my back, like a protective shield against the world, as I make my way down the hall.
Downstairs, the scent of garlic and something rich and savory fills the air. Ethan is at the stove, dishing out pasta onto plates, his broad shoulders tense with focus.
“You guys actually cooked?” I ask, a little skeptical. I just assumed they grabbed most of their meals on campus—like I do. Although, the food we ate the night before the roster was announced was home-cooked, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised.
Jax scoffs, nudging me lightly with his elbow toward the table while he grabs drinks for us. “Ethan cooked. I supervised.”
Ethan huffs, dumping a pot into the sink. “You sat on the counter and scrolled through your phone the whole time.”
Jax shrugs, looking over his shoulder at me as he retrieves glasses from the cupboard. He winks, and that simple action is like a live wire aimed directly at my core. “Like I said—supervised.”
Despite my laugh, I stand behind one of the chairs at the table, my hands clenched around the wood as I glance around the open-plan living-kitchen area.
“He’s not here,” Ethan says, noticing my not-so-subtle search when he carries two plates over. “He and Finn went out earlier.”
“Oh.” It’s stupid how my stomach drops.
Ethan’s gaze meets mine before he gestures to the chair. “Sit.” There’s a hint of an order there, but it’s hidden beneath gentle concern. I do as he says, but any appetite I had has fled, knowing Finn voluntarily went out with Kyle. With the way he responded to Kyle at lunch today, I thought perhaps… But that was stupid of me. Kyle is his friend.
Jax must see something on my face as he and Ethan share a glance. “We told Finn to take him out for a while so you wouldn’t have to hide away in your room all night. He…wasn’t as excited about it as you might think.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, my gaze bouncing between the two men who have taken it upon themselves to be my protectors. Warmth spreads through my chest. “Thank you,” I murmur quietly.
The two of them join me at the table, Ethan taking the seat beside me and Jax sitting opposite. A strange sense of normalcy settles over us as we dig into our food. Other than my dinners with Bear and the occasional one with Wren, I usually eat alone. Jax and Ethan banter back and forth, joking and teasing one another. It reminds me of family dinners. Ones I haven’t allowed myself to look at too closely ever since my dad died.
At first, we keep the conversation light—hockey, classes, practice, but as our plates empty and the warmth of the meal settles in our bellies, Ethan asks, “So, how did you first get into hockey?”
I shrug, feeling his stare on me but not able to meet his gaze. “My dad used to play. He basically raised me on the ice. Pretty sure I learned to skate before I could walk.”
Jax hums, setting his fork down. He’s the only one who knows my dad is dead. Who knows what a sensitive subject this is for me. “He played college or pro?”
I hesitate, reaching for my water. “College.” It’s not a lie, it’s just not the full truth either. I shift in my seat. “I think, even if he hadn’t played, I still would have ended up on the ice. It was just…always home, you know?”
Ethan nods like he gets it. “You still close with him?”
The question lodges in my chest. I swallow, forcing my voice to stay even. “He died last year.”
“Shit, Thorn,” Ethan mutters, regret deepening his voice. “Sorry.”
“What about your mom?” Jax questions, and I sense he’s been wanting to ask that since the night I fell apart in his arms.
“My mom and dad…their love was like a fairy tale.” There’s a heaviness to my words, the weight of grief tugging them down. “Losing him broke something in her.” I shake my head. “I’ve barely seen her since… She’s more of a ghost than a parent anymore.”
Neither of them says anything for a moment, but I don’t feel pity from them. Just…understanding.
Jax leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
I glance at him, waiting.
He shrugs. “I didn’t really have parents growing up. They were in and out, and when they were around, they were more into each other’s drama than they were into raising me. I lived with my aunt for a while. My uncle after that. Spent most of my childhood bouncing between them until I got old enough to look after myself.” He flicks a crumb off his plate. “Never really felt like I belonged anywhere.”
“What age were you when you started looking after yourself?” I ask, curiously, my heart aching at the thought of a young Jax getting himself dressed, making himself breakfast, going to school in wrinkled, day-old clothes.
“Ten.”
I frown. That’s even younger than I’d expected. I don’t know what to say to that, but I don’t think he expects anything.
Ethan exhales, shaking his head. “Jesus. This got depressing fast.”
Jax smirks. “Don’t act like you’re exempt from the shitty family stories.”
Ethan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Fine. My dad owns a mechanic shop. Been working there since I was a kid, cleaning up oil spills and handing him tools. He made me earn every penny I needed for hockey gear, lessons, and camp.”
I tilt my head. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Ethan’s jaw tenses. “It wouldn’t have been. If he didn’t spend every second reminding me I’d never amount to anything more than he did. Laughing at me for thinking I could ever do better. Ever be anything more than a lowly mechanic—the guy with grease under his nails.” His fingers drum against the table, giving away his agitation. “It never mattered how good I was, how well I played. He’s just waiting for me to fail and come crawling back.”
Jax lets out a low whistle. “Holidays must be a real treat.”
Ethan snorts. “Which is why I typically spend them here.”
That thick silence settles in again. It’s strange. I don’t think I’ve ever sat with them like this—no teasing, no sharp edges. Just them. Just me.
Ethan stretches back in his chair, and I don’t miss the way his T-shirt rides up as he lifts his arms above his head, the flash of white skin and taut muscle before it falls back down. “Jesus, we sound like a bad therapy group.”
I chuckle. “Same time next week?”
Jax huffs a laugh while Ethan flashes me that boy-next-door grin of his. Pushing back his chair, he grabs my plate along with his. “I’ll tidy this up. You and Jax go pick a movie?”
Dinner and a movie? This is beginning to look a little bit like a date. Admittedly, a weird-ass one where there are two guys. “Uh, sure.”
We’re interrupted by a knock at the front door. Jax glares in that direction, not looking pleased at the interruption. “Who the hell is that?” he grumbles, setting his plate back on the table before stalking toward the hall.
Moving to help Ethan while Jax talks to whoever is at the door, I’ve just added Jax’s plate to the pile of dirty dishes when voices and the stomping of feet have me spinning.
“By all means, invite yourself inside,” Jax grouses, each word dripping with sarcasm as Griffin marches into the kitchen. His sharp gaze darts around the room before locking on me.
Ethan bristles immediately. “What are you doing here?”
“Why aren’t you at practice?” I ask, knowing this is the time when he’s typically on the ice.
“Like I could focus on anything else when I know you’re under the same roof as him.” He jerks his chin toward the stairs.
Ethan makes an exasperated noise. “We’re perfectly capable—”
“Is he here?” Griffin demands. His hands clench at his sides as though pitching for a fight.
Jax sighs, the sound born from frustration more than anything else. “No. Finn took him out.”
Griffin nods, seeming somewhat satisfied by that at least.
A standoff ensues.
“Well, thanks for stopping by.” Jax attempts to usher Griffin out of the house.
“I’m not leaving.” Folding his arms over his chest, Griffin becomes the immovable man as he glowers at Ethan and Jax, just daring them to try and kick him out.
I sigh, stepping forward. The movement catches Griffin’s attention, his glower softening, even though his lips are still pressed in a flat line. “We were going to watch a movie, if you want to join us?”
It’s not really in my nature to be the peacekeeper, but I’m equally aware that each of these guys is fighting over protecting me. Plus, there’s that strange pull…
Ethan and Jax exchange a look, but they both remain silent, letting me take the lead.
Griffin stares at me a moment longer, the room seeming to hold its collective breath, before he gestures toward the living room. “Lead the way.”
As I walk past, he steps forward so my arm brushes against his chest. Static fills the air. My breath catches, and he notices, if the flash of his eyes is anything to go by. He’s not unaffected either, though. His throat moves, and he doesn’t dare blink as I pass. Even as I stride to the living room, I feel his gaze heavy and wanton on my back.
